


there's a picture on the mirror, but it's turned around

by perfectcosima



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectcosima/pseuds/perfectcosima





	there's a picture on the mirror, but it's turned around

Some things are too difficult to face.

 

There’s a picture on the mirror, but it’s turned around.

 

Carmilla Karnstein sits still in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection. It was time for her to put on her mask.

 

Foundation first, powder lightly dabbed on over it. Eyeshadow forgone, then eyeliner, mascara, bright lipstick. She looks the same as the day they first met.

 

She’ll never change.

 

There’s a picture on the mirror, but it’s turned around.

 

Carmilla hasn’t seen her in years. She’d changed, Carmilla was sure, but how was uncertain.

 

Did she have children? Grandchildren?

 

Was she happy?

 

There’s a picture on the mirror, but it’s turned around.

 

Taking a deep breath, Carmilla stands up and heads to her car.

 

She’s not ready. She would never be ready.

 

There’s a picture on the mirror, but it’s turned around.

 

There’s a crowd. Of course there’s a crowd.

 

A few familiar faces, a few faces with familiar features. The eyes of the originals widen, but they say nothing.

 

She hasn’t seen them in years. They’ve changed.

 

She’ll never change.

 

There’s a picture on the mirror, but it’s turned around.

 

She approaches, approaches in a manner that makes people part, although they don’t know why.

 

It’s time to face the picture.

 

She approaches.

 

She approaches.

 

There’s a picture on the casket.

 

Wrinkles aplenty, hair so faded that the red is almost gone, but the eyes. The eyes are the same.

 

She reaches out, and her fingertips barely touch the surface of the glass, tracing the outline of the jaw, imagining only for a second the what-ifs, what could have been real if they had done the impossible, if they had grown old together.

 

Danny.

Danny.

Danny.

 

The girl in the mirror smiles.

 

 


End file.
